


This is my note.

by PhoenixHolmes



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: I'm Sorry, Sorry again, Teenlock, There will be death, challenge from my friend to make her cry, i'm not actually that sorry, she cried, teen!lock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-19
Packaged: 2018-01-21 16:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1556696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhoenixHolmes/pseuds/PhoenixHolmes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes hardly ever actually turns up to school. Until he is put in charge of looking after the new boy, John Watson, he is completely isolated and alone. But John's friendship means danger....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sherlock

Sherlock  
Of course, I got into trouble the moment I walked in.  
I had no idea what was wrong. I mean, I’d actually turned up today, rather than just skiving off and wandering around London. But that didn’t stop my teacher, Mr Lee, from barking at me as soon as I opened the door.  
“Sherlock Holmes!” he barked, and I turned to face him, ignoring the rest of the class who were laughing at me. “Yes, sir?” I asked in what I thought was a polite tone that he took as a sarcastic tone. “Don’t take that tone with me. Come on, you’re needed” he said, gesturing for me to follow him back out of the room. “What’ve I done this time? I haven’t even been here!” I protested as he marched me towards the office. “I know that, Sherlock. And I suppose you have a good reason for why you haven’t been here?” he asked, and because I was rubbish at lying, I dove in and told him the truth. “I was bored” I said, which was honestly the truth. He snorted, and started quizzing me on what I’d missed in his lessons. I got each question right, and that just annoyed him. “Smart arse” he muttered, thinking I couldn’t hear him. I just raised my eyebrows as he went into the office. I waited outside, thinking he was fetching some kind of slip that would give me detention for a month. I wasn’t expecting him to come out with someone else. “This is John Watson. He’s new here, and you’re his designated helper. He’s in all your classes, so that’s why you were picked” he said, ushering the boy who was slightly shorter than me forwards. He was thirteen, the same age as me, and his blazer was too big. He looked extremely nervous as the bell rang and I turned to go, expecting him to follow. I paused though, and heard Mr Lee whisper “Careful. He acts like a psychopath sometimes” to John, which I instantly felt insulted by. When were people going to see that I wasn’t a psychopath? I was thirteen, for crying out loud. How many thirteen year old psychopaths did you meet? But then, how many thirteen year old sociopaths did you meet?  
John stumbled to keep up with me as I strode towards the history block. “Um... so.... what was your name again? I... I don’t remember...” he said, frowning.  
“You don’t remember because no one ever told you. My name is Sherlock Holmes” I replied.  
“Ok. Sherlock. Right. Unusual name, huh?” he said, and I felt a slight wave of pity towards his attempt at a conversation.  
“If you think that’s bad, well, my older brother’s called Mycroft” I said.  
“Your brother? Does he go here?” he asked. I grimaced at the thought of Mycroft, constantly sucking up to the teachers and being an absolute pain most of the time, if not all of it.  
“Yeah. He’s two years older than me. He’s a pain” I said as we lined up outside the history room, the rest of the class eyeing John and me, because it was rare that I would talk to anybody, let alone a new student. We filed in, and John followed me up to the teacher’s desk. “This is John Watson. He’s new” I said, and Mrs Cooper looked up.  
“Yes, yes. Well, John, sit next to Mycroft. Keep him out of trouble” I grimaced. I hated people confusing me with Mycroft. We looked nothing alike apart from similarly coloured eyes.  
“I’m Sherlock” I inform her, and she waves us away.  
“Yes, that’s what I meant” she muttered, and John followed me to my seat at the back nervously.  
“Do people always call you Mycroft?” he asked, and I felt myself smirk.  
“Not usually. People know he’s my brother, of course, but we pretty much stay out of each other’s way” I reply.  
“Mycroft! Stop talking!” Mrs Cooper barked, and everyone turned to snigger at me.  
“I’m sorry Miss, but how do you know Mycroft was talking? He’s not in this room, you see” I replied, and her eyes narrowed. “Sherlock. Whatever. You Holmes boys all look the same, and act the same as well. Insufferable know it alls, the pair of you” she muttered, and I raised my eyebrows.  
“I’ll make sure he knows what you just said” I replied cheerfully, causing her to lose her temper and through a whiteboard pen at me, which completely missed by a long shot. “You should work on your throwing technique” I said. I knew it wasn’t the best idea to talk back to a teacher, but it was the only thing keeping me from eternal boredom whilst trapped in the pathetic excuse for a school. “Detention, Mycroft Holmes!” she shouted, and felt John grin beside me.  
“If you say so, Miss. I’ll let him know” I said. 

The only thing was; I now had John following me around like an obedient puppy. At break time, he was following me as I wandered round the field, neither of us attempting to make conversation. “Sherlock!” a familiar voice called, and I groaned, turning to face the boy running towards me. “What?” I asked, irritated. John was staring at him with wide eyes, trying to work out who it was.  
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” my brother asked, indicating John with a nod of his head. I sighed.  
“This is my brother, Mycroft. This is John Watson, who’s new” I replied, and Mycroft shook John’s hand.  
“Mycroft Holmes. I’m in year eleven, but if you ever need anything, you might find it more efficient to talk to me rather than Sherlock, who usually insults someone with every sentence” he said, and John nodded nervously.  
“Oh, by the way, Mrs Cooper’s giving you detention” I said, turning away.  
“What for? I don’t have any lessons with her this term” he said, and I smirked.  
“Well, she said “detention for Mycroft Holmes” so I just thought I’d let you know” I replied, striding away with John practically tripping over his feet to catch up with me. He always stayed at least two steps behind me, keeping a wary distance. I was just formulating a theory as to why this was, when he spoke. “Um... Mr Lee earlier, he said you were a psychopath....” he trailed off, looking nervous, and I laughed. “Yeah he did. I heard him. Bless. I’m not a psychopath, though, John, so don’t look so worried. I’m a high functioning sociopath. People never manage to distinguish between the two these days” I said, and he looked slightly relieved.  
“I’m glad you’re not a psychopath” he muttered, half to himself, and I couldn’t help but grin.  
“I bet you are. Come on, the bell’s about to ring, we’d better get to tutor” I said, and he followed me back to the tutor room. Mr Lee looked up when we walked in. “Sherlock, a word outside, please” he said as John took his seat. He watched anxiously as I went outside. “How’s John been?” Mr Lee asked, and I shrugged. “Fine” I replied, and he raised his eyebrows.  
“I see you haven’t abandoned him yet, which I’m going to take as a good sign. He might be a calming influence on you” he said, and I snorted.  
“I don’t need a calming influence. I’m fine the way I am” I said, heading back inside and to my seat next to John. “You aren’t in trouble are you?” he whispered, and I shook my head.  
“For once, no. He was just making sure how you were getting on” I replied, and he looked relieved.  
“I thought maybe you were in trouble for what happened in history” he said, and I laughed.  
“What, with Mrs Cooper? Nah. She can’t even tell who I am. And there’s no detention slip for me, meaning she has actually written the slip for Mycroft. He’ll be annoyed. He always is. He gets more detentions in my name than in his own” I said, and he grinned.  
“Doesn’t he get annoyed though?” he asked, and I nodded.  
“Sure, he gets annoyed. But he goes to the detentions and makes up for whatever it was I did wrong, which in a majority of cases is talking back to the teacher” I told him, and he shakes his head.  
“You’re amazing” he muttered, and I turned to look at him quizzically because I wasn’t sure if he had meant to say that out loud. I kept quiet, but I was secretly pleased by this complement. Hardly anyone ever complimented me like that. 

That evening, Mycroft was grumbling about the detention slip he had received that was meant for me. I couldn’t help but grin, earning me a kick in the shins. “Mycroft! Do not kick your brother like that!” Mother shouted, and he pouted.  
“But he managed to get me in detention! I was meant to have art club tomorrow!” he shouted, and I shrugged. “You shouldn’t have been so disruptive in the lesson” I said, which caused him to chase me around the house angrily. My bedroom window was open, and I didn’t pause, I just jumped straight out into the tree outside. I’d done it loads of times, and I knew Mycroft wouldn’t follow me. He hung out of my bedroom window. “You’re an idiot, Sherlock!” he bellowed before storming back inside. I grinned to myself and headed back inside, dropping gently onto the windowsill. When I got back downstairs for tea, Mycroft was telling Mother all about John. “He sounds nice, Sherlock, why don’t you invite him round?” she asked. I glared at my brother, who glared back at me smugly. This was his revenge for the detention. “He’s not my friend. I don’t have friends. He’s just the new kid” I said, and Mycroft snorted. “He likes you. I can tell. He wants to be your friend. I reckon he’ll be a nice friend for you” he said, and I smacked him across the head.  
“I saw that, Sherlock!” Mother warned, but Mycroft merely smirked.  
“He’s a good boy, Sherlock. It would take an idiot not to see that” he said.


	2. Sherlock p.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and John meet infamous student Jim Moriarty

The next day, and I slouched into tutor late, because I hadn’t wanted to come in at all. Mr Lee shook his head at me, but said nothing as I slumped in my chair beside John, who looked slightly surprised. “Thought you weren’t coming in today” he said, and I shook my head.  
“I’m supposed to keep an eye out for you, aren’t I?” I said, and he smiled.  
“Thanks. I know that without you I would get lost” he said, and I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth. He needed me. So this was what it felt like to be needed. I barely had time to process this when the bell rang. John stood up at the same time I did, and glanced at me. I rolled my eyes, and beckoned for him to follow me to science. “Just a warning... he’s... crazy” I said, just as Mr Doherty, our nutter of a science teacher, let us in, wearing his bright red labcoat as usual. John sidled up to the desk nervously. “Um... I’m John Watson, I’m new” he mumbled, and Mr Doherty gave him a wide grin. “Yes, yes, I remember. John Watson. Right. Spare seat at the back, next to Sherlock. Actually, whilst we’re on the subject, Sherlock, come here” he said, and I strode past John to the front desk. “Sir?” I asked politely, raising my eyebrow. He shook his head.  
“Where’s your labcoat?” he asked.  
“At home” I say innocently. “You see, I didn’t think we would need them today, so I didn’t bring it”  
“Don’t give me that tone. And since you haven’t been here for a whole week, tell me about noble gases” he said, and I grinned, before giving him a lengthy explanation about gases.  
“Show off. Alright, get to your seat. Keep an eye on that new kid” he said, grinning. I winked at him, and he laughed as I went and sat down. Out of all of my teachers, Mr Doherty was the only one I could have a good conversation with. He never cared about me talking back at him. In fact, he loved it because he rarely got to have discussions with anyone like me. John looked at me as I slid into my seat. “In trouble?” he whispered, and I shook my head.  
“Nah. Doherty’s practically the only teacher that thinks I’m great” I replied.

Unfortunately, the day went downhill from there. The next lesson, I got into an argument with Mr Mason the maths teacher. I stood towering over him, shouting at him that he had made a mistake on the board. He bellowed back that he hadn’t made a mistake and I should sit down, shut up and stop telling him how to do his job. “Get to HODs. NOW!” he screamed in my face, and I picked up my bag and sauntered out the door without a backward glance. It was Mr Doherty on duty, luckily. He raised his eyebrows at me. “Oh dear, Sherlock. In trouble again? What did you do this time?” he asked. I shrugged. “Argued with Mr Mason” I mumbled.  
“Again? That’s the second time now” he said, and I shrugged again, taking my seat. I was in for three hours of silence, with break and lunch in the middle. Great.  
Half way through the lesson, and a familiar figure passed through on his way to the office. I groaned inwardly as he stopped at my desk. “Sherlock? What have you done this time?” my brother asked. I grimaced. “Argued with a teacher. What do you think I did? Why else would I be here?” I snapped. Mr Doherty looked up. “Oh, hey, Mycroft. Nice to see you” he said, and Mycroft smiled.  
“And you, Sir. Keeping an eye on my brother again?” he asked, and Mr Doherty nodded.  
“’Fraid so” he replied, returning his attention to his laptop. Mycroft turned to go, but I caught his sleeve, and he turned back in surprise.  
“Tell John I’ll meet him at lunch” I said, and he nodded.  
“Sure” he said, walking away. Mr Doherty watched him go, and looked at me.  
“Nice boy, your brother. Not much like you. He’s much more polite” he said. I snorted.  
“Yeah. Nice and polite. That’s why he chased me up a tree yesterday” I said, and he laughed.  
“I’m sure you deserved it” he said.

At lunch, after my three hour silence. John was waiting for me in the canteen, and had saved us a table. He grinned as I flopped opposite him. “Hey” he said.  
“Hi John” I said, picking up an apple and turning it over in my hands. I had no intention of eating, and instead watched John bite into his cheese sandwich. A shadow fell over us, and we both looked up in surprise. The apple was plucked out of my hands. “Awww look at you too cute lovebirds. When are you going to make the announcement?” a lilting Irish voice asked. John blinked.  
“We’re not a couple” he said, and the boy laughed.  
“Yes you are. At least you will be. You just don’t see it yet” he said. He held his hand out.  
“James Moriarty. You can call me Jim” he said. John shook his hand, but I refused, staring as he carved the apple with a blunt knife from the canteen. He grinned, and handed me the apple. “Not long now, Holmes. You’ll see. I owe you. And you won’t like what it is that I owe you. It will ruin your life” he said, sauntering away. Carved into the apple were the letters IOU. John stared. “What was that all about?” he asked. I shook my head.  
“Moriarty’s been saying stuff like this to me since the start of term. It doesn’t mean anything” I said, even though I was certain that it did mean something important. I just couldn’t figure out what.


	3. Sherlock p.3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock does something that changes everyone's lives, and costs him a major sacrifice

A couple of months later, it was my fourteenth birthday. And like every other year before it, Mother made a special tea and demanded I invite I friend. So I invited John, my only friend, to come, and he turned up at three in the afternoon, his grin lighting up the hallway. “Happy birthday, Sherlock” he said, handing me a present. I grimace slightly. I hated receiving birthday gifts, because I could usually deduce what they were easily and then pretend to be surprised when I opened it. “Thanks John” I muttered, leading the way into the dining room where the table was spread with a variety of food. Mycroft looked up, and nodded to John. “Hi John” he said, before returning his attention to his book. “Hey” John muttered back. I decided I may as well get on with it, and tore the wrapping off the present. It was a framed photo of me and John, taken on a trip last week. John looked happy and was grinning at the camera, and I looked bemused and with a forced smile because I hated having my picture taken. I smiled up at John now though, a pure, genuine smile. “Thanks John” I said, and he shrugged. “It’s not much, sorry” he said, and I shook my head because he would never know how much this picture meant to me.  
“It means a lot to me that you want to be my friend. And I’m not really a big fan of gifts, but this is nice. I like it” I told him, and he grinned at me, and after a second’s hesitation I grinned back.  
Mycroft laughed when I was made to sit at the head of the table and Mother put the ‘Birthday Crown’ on my head. “Suits you. King Sherlock” he said, before laughing again. I smacked his head. “Yeah, well, when you wear it you look like Queen Mycroft” I snapped, which shut him up. John was sitting nervously, and I nudged him under the table. “You ok?” I asked quietly, and he nodded.  
“Sure, I’m fine” he replied. Something was worrying him, I could see it. I wondered what it was, but then, even I if I did know, I wouldn’t be much help because I was crap at dealing with human emotions, especially my own.

 

I never did solve Moriarty’s IOU riddle. At least, not until it was too late.  
I was walking home with John, when we passed a car with the number plate IOU. I frowned, but kept walking. John and I stopped to cross the road, and John started across the road when the lights changed whilst I lingered on the pavement. The IOU car was speeding, and it wouldn’t stop in time. Judging by the speed, it would be enough to...  
I sprinted out into the road, and shoved John out of the car’s way, allowing it to slam into me instead. I was thrown up into the air, over the roof of the car, and hit the road again, hard. I registered a searing pain up my spine, and then Moriarty’s face above me. “I warned you, Sherlock. I owed you the death of your friend... but you got in the way. It wasn’t meant to be you. But, seen as it is, I’ll make the most of it” he said, before stomping as hard as he could on my back. I heard and felt my spine snap, and I screamed and lost consciousness.


	4. Sherlock p.4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock wakes up in hospital and is told the life changing news

I woke up to someone calling my name. “Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?” John’s voice called, and I felt pressure on my fingers. I groaned, and opened my eyes slowly, blinking in the bright light of the hospital. “Oh, Sherlock, thank goodness” he cried, clutching my hand.  
“John...” I moaned. “What’s wrong with me? How badly am I hurt?” I asked, knowing I could trust him for a straight answer. He grimaced. “John, tell me” I demanded, anxious to hear how bad my injuries were. “Alright. You hit your head. That’s not the worst bit though... they said I had to ask you something when you woke up” he said.  
“What?” I asked, and he gulped as though he already knew the answer.  
“Can you feel your legs? Can you move your toes?” he asked. I smirked.  
“That’s a pretty stupid... oh” I said. I was staring down at my legs and feet, and attempted to move my toes. Nothing happened. “John. Tell me. What does it mean?” I asked, surprised at the amount of panic there was in my voice. He leaned forward and tapped my shin. “Did you feel that?” he asked, his voice wavering. I shook my head, and I knew. I already knew what had happened. He gulped and buried his face in his hands. I stared, slightly shocked, to see him cry like this. I’d never seen him cry before. “Sherlock I’m so sorry it’s all my fault” he mumbled. I tried to sit up, wanting to comfort him, but I couldn’t. “John. John, look at me” I said instead, and he raised his tear stained face to look at me. “Listen to me. This is not your fault. Do you understand? This is Moriarty’s fault. Did you see him? Did you see what he did?” I asked, and he nodded sadly.  
“I told the police, and they went to talk to him but he was gone. He’s vanished. I’m not sure if they believed me when I said he stamped on your back. But that’s why... isn’t it?” he said, and I sighed sadly. “Yes. I don’t want you to blame yourself for any of this though, do you understand?” I said.  
“It should have been me. It was meant to be me” he mumbled.  
“John, he was trying to kill you” I said, which I felt was fairly obvious.  
“You saved my life. Why did you do that?” he asked, and I smiled slightly.  
“Because, John, you are the only person who has ever told me I’m amazing, that you need me. You are my best friend, even I if I am not yours. You are the first friend I’ve ever had, and I couldn’t watch you die” I said, and his eyes filled with tears again as the doctor came in.  
“Ah. So you’re...” he checked the clipboard “Sherlock Holmes, yes?” he asked, and I nodded.  
“Unfortunately, Sherlock, there’s some bad news” he said gravely. I already knew what it was, but I didn’t want it said out loud. Not in front of John, who would sob and blame himself.  
“I’m afraid that your spine has been snapped in two, and due to damage to the spinal cord, all nerve endings to your legs and feet have been cut off. Your spine will heal, but unfortunately you will never be able to walk again” he said, bowing his head and leaving. “I’ll contact your mother” he added as he shut the door, and the moment he was gone, John grabbed my arm and hugged it. I was slightly surprised at this, as I was with any form of contact. “Sherlock I am so, so, sorry! I should have stopped Moriarty I should have looked before crossing the road, I am a terrible friend to you, and I let you down and I can never tell you how sorry I am” he cried, and I reached round and patted his head. “John. I said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t blame you. I forgive you, of course I do, you dozy idiot. I already knew, when I couldn’t feel my toes. I won’t blame you. In fact, right now, I’m more worried about you than myself” I said, and he looked up, still clutching my arm.  
“Why would you worry about me? Especially when... well...” he trailed off, and I smirked.  
“I’m worried about how you’re handling this. You are more upset over it than I am, which is stupid really. I’m the one who’s never going to walk again, not you” I said, and he flinched.  
“Don’t say it like that. It makes it more real” he muttered.  
“It is real, John. I’m not scared, or afraid of it. And you shouldn’t be either” I told him, the lie burning my throat. “Can you do something for me, though?” I asked, and he blinked.  
“Of course, Sherlock, what is it?” he asked. I sighed.  
“I said I wasn’t scared. I lied. I’m scared of what’s going to happen to me. But I’m hiding it for you, John, because I can see this isn’t easy for you. But think about it. You crying and getting all soppy on me isn’t helping. Can you stay strong for me?” I asked, and he let out a shaky breath.  
“I... I’ll try, Sherlock. For you” he said, and I nodded.  
“Thank you” I murmured as the door flew open and my mother and Mycroft came in. Mother was instantly by the side, hugging me tight against her and wrenching me from John’s grip. “Sherlock! Sherlock my baby!” she sobbed. Mycroft was pale, standing behind her.  
“What the doctors said. Is it true?” he asked me over Mother’s shoulder.  
“Usually what they say is true” I said, and he snapped.  
“Sherlock, they’ve just told us that you’re never going to walk again! Is. This. True?” he demanded. I looked away as I patted Mother on the back.  
“Yes, Mycroft, it is true” I mumbled, and he sank into a chair, holding his head in his hands.  
“Oh God, Sherlock... you idiot... I am so sorry” he muttered. I shook my head in amazement.  
“What on earth does everyone keep apologizing to me for? It’s not your fault. You weren’t even there” I said, and he looked up.  
“You’re right, of course” he said, a faint smile on his face. I smirked, and he laughed.  
“You got me. You actually got me to admit I was wrong” he said, and I laughed as well, which caused Mother to straighten in surprise. “First time for everything” I said as she took a seat. The door opened, and a man came in. “Dear God, more visitors? I never knew I was so popular” I said, trying to sound upbeat even though I had no idea who this visitor was. Mycroft laughed.  
“You never used to be popular. But, seen as you are now, maybe you should have a fan club” he said, and I laughed, still watching the stranger. He cleared his throat.  
“Are you Sherlock Holmes?” he asked, and I nodded, the laughter dying in my throat.  
“I’m John’s dad” he said, and I felt a twinge of guilt. With the arrival of my mother and Mycroft, I had forgotten John was still here. I turned to him now, and saw he looked a little happier because I’d been laughing, all though a shaky smile couldn’t hide the pain and sadness still on his face. “John told me what happened. I’m sorry” he said. I shook my head.  
“Again, with the apologizing. I’m fine. Well, I’m not physically fine, but you get my point” I said.


	5. Sherlock p.5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock returns to school for the first time after his accident. But not everyone is as understanding as John...

It was another week before I was allowed home. I was in a wheelchair, so I slept on the sofa downstairs. I was going back to school, and I was dreading it. Mother had spoken to them, and so had Mycroft. He was always the favourite Holmes boy out of us both. All my classes had been moved downstairs, and John would be my helper, there to return what I did for him when he started. The first morning, I was nervous. I hadn’t seen John since I’d left the hospital. I was also scared, no, petrified, at what the others would say.  
The taxi pulled up outside the main entrance, and I could see John waiting for me. Mycroft helped me from the taxi into the wheelchair, and I wheeled myself up the small slope towards John as Mycroft paid the taxi driver. “Hey Sherlock” John said, and I smiled up at him. God, was this what it was like being short? I wondered.  
“Hi John. You ok?” I asked, still concerned about how he was handling things.  
“A bit better, yeah. Come on, we’ve got to go to tutor” he said, taking the wheelchair handles from me and pushing me through the school, which was pretty quiet because the bell hadn’t rung yet. John opened the door to our tutor room, and pushed me inside. “What are you doing the bell hasn’t... oh” Mr Lee said, his eyes widening at the sight of me.  
“Quit staring” I muttered. He shook himself out of his daze.  
“Sorry. John said there had been an accident... what exactly...” he trailed off, still staring at the wheelchair. I sighed. I would get lots of questions like this today.  
“I’m paralysed from the waist down and I’m never going to walk again. Surely they told you that?” I asked, and he blushed. “Right, yes. Sorry, Sherlock” he said as the bell rang. John took me over to our desk at the back, and moved the chair so I could position myself at the table. The door opened and people came crashing in, shoving each other and looking like complete idiots. John sat beside me, ready to defend me if anyone said anything. “Hey, look, Sherlock’s back!” Philip Anderson said, coming and flopping opposite. “Hang on, are you in a wheelchair?” he asked suspiciously. I grimaced.  
“Excellent deduction skills, Anderson. Now leave me alone” I said. He snorted.  
“Whatever, psychopath” he muttered.  
“Not a psychopath! High functioning sociopath!” I shouted at his back as Mr Lee stood at the front.  
“All right, be quiet! As you have undoubtedly noticed, Sherlock Holmes is back. He... well, I’ll let him tell you, but he’s in a wheelchair. Remember I said your classes were moving downstairs? That’s why. Be nice to him, even though he doesn’t deserve it” he said. I felt a raw stab of emotion in my chest, and John glanced at me before leaning closer. “Are you ok?” he whispered. I nodded.  
“I’m fine” I muttered, even though I wasn’t fine. I knew to expect snide remarks from the other pupils, but not my teachers as well. They were meant to help me, support me, and all they did was argue, make mistakes and yell rude things at me. 

John wheeled me out by the field at lunch, and sat on the bench beside me. “Thanks John” I said. He smiled. “No problem. It’s the least I can do” he said. A figure edged towards us nervously. As she got closer, I saw it was Molly Hooper from tutor. “Hi Molly” John said. She jumped slightly at the mention of her name. “Oh, hi John. Um... Sherlock...” she trailed off, looking at me. I raised my eyebrows. “I suppose you want to know what happened. A car was speeding, nearly hit John, I pushed him out the way and the car hit me instead. Paralysed from the waist down” I said, and she blinked. “Wow... you’re so brave, Sherlock” she said, before blushing and hurrying away.  
It was a couple of minutes before someone else came over. “You... aren’t supposed to be alive” a lilting Irish voice said, sneering down at us. John was on his feet. “Stay away from him” he hissed. Moriarty raised his eyebrows. “You can’t tell me what to do. Although I must admit, I was disappointed when he shoved you out the way, but seeing him in a wheelchair kind of makes up for it” he said. I glared at him, and he smirked down at me, before grabbing my shoulders and chucking me out of the chair onto the floor. “Come on then, Holmes, up you get!” he said. I started dragging myself back towards the wheelchair with my hands, but he kicked it away. “Oh no you don’t. Up on your feet. Oh wait, you can’t, can you? How silly of me to forget!” he said, drawing his leg back to kick me. “Hey! You leave my brother alone!” Mycroft bellowed, running towards us. Moriarty laughed and kicked at me. Quick as a flash, I grabbed his ankle and pulled him over so he fell on his back. “Not so fun when someone dumps you on the floor, is it?” I said through gritted teeth. John had fetched my wheelchair, and Mycroft helped him lift me back into it as Moriarty ran away. “Are you alright, Sherlock?” Mycroft asked anxiously. I nodded.  
“Fine. It was him, by the way” I said, and he frowned.  
“It was who what?” he asked, confused. I pointed after Moriarty’s retreating back.  
“Him. James Moriarty. The one who tried to kill John. The one who broke my spine” I said, and he raised his eyebrows. “Did you tell the police?” he asked, and I snorted.  
“Course I did. They didn’t believe me though” I said.  
The bullying from Moriarty and Anderson went on for another month. They were always there, in the corridors, at break, yelling rude remarks and calling me names, names much worse than the ones they used to call me. One of Anderson’s favourite words was ‘cripple’ which was probably the most imaginative name he could come up with. Even though it was lame, I still hated it, because it reminded me of who I was now, and that I would never live a ‘normal’ life again. I watched sadly as John loped around the field, playing football one PE lesson. I had hated PE, but I loved running. And now I was never going to walk or run again. I sighed, fiddling with the bottle of painkillers in my pocket. I hated this life now. So lonely, and people were so mean, and whenever I went anywhere they would stare. Anderson kicked the football and it bounced off my head. “Woops, sorry, cripple!” he yelled, his eyes glinting as he ran away laughing. I felt my eyes fill with tears, and forced the emotion down, back into the deepest corner of my mind where it belonged, where it couldn’t bother me. I knew what I had to do though. And I would do it. Tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slight delay in uploading, exams are taking over and I keep drowning in revision...  
> This story is not over yet, and I will keep posting when I can  
> Thanks so much for following it means a lot to me


	6. Sherlock p.6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock has made his choice

I shut myself in my new downstairs bedroom, and wheeled myself to my desk. I pulled out some paper, and began to write.

Dearest Mother  
I’m so sorry I kept this from you, and I know this isn’t the way you would have wanted to hear it. The bullying at school and in public has gotten too much for me. I can’t cope anymore.  
I know you would say this is a coward’s way out, but I haven’t really got another choice. I’m never going to walk again. I’m never going to run. I’m never going to be myself again.  
I’m so sorry, Mother. But this is goodbye.  
So goodbye, Mother. Remember I always loved you.  
Sherlock x

I paused, and pulled another piece of paper towards me. They deserved to know the truth, both of them. 

Mycroft,  
You always said I was an idiot. Well, you were right.  
I am an idiot. An idiot never to have told you how much I cared for you, or how much you meant to me as a brother. I hope you don’t think what I have done is idiotic. I hope you understand it was really the only choice I had left. I can’t control my own life now. But I can control how it ends.  
I’m sorry, Mycroft. For not telling you how amazing you were, or how miserable I felt.  
One last thing, though, for me, please?  
Look after Mother.  
Love from your brother,  
Sherlock 

I re-read the two notes, and sighed. I was about to turn away, when I thought of someone else I hadn’t apologized to. I pulled out a third sheet of paper, and began to write. 

After finishing the three notes, I sealed them in separate envelopes, and wrote the names on the envelopes. I left them on my desk in plain view, and then wheeled myself to the bed. I pulled myself out, and took out the bottle of pills again, reading the label. Anymore than two in twenty four hours was an overdose because of how strong they were. I opened the bottle, and tipped the last four pills onto my hand. One would usually send me to sleep for a few hours, and I usually only took them when I was having trouble sleeping. But I wanted to sleep a lot longer than a couple of hours. I held the pills in my hand, and looked at my desk, where there was the framed photo of me and John, my best and only friend, given to me on my birthday. I sighed. “Goodbye John” I whispered, and swallowed the pills. They instantly made me drowsy, and I lay down, my head on the pillows.  
And closed my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I will upload the next bit as soon as I can!  
> Please, comment/review/leave kudos - it makes me happy :)


	7. Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Told from Mycroft's point of view

“Sherlock! Come on, tea’s ready!” I called, knocking on his bedroom door. There was no answer, and I sighed, opening the door, thinking he had fallen asleep. Sure enough, there he was, sprawled on top of his bed. I stepped forward to wake him, when I noticed the pill bottle in his hand. It was empty. “Oh no...” I mumbled. “Mother!” I bellowed, running from the room.  
“What are you shouting for, Mycroft?” she asked, poking her head out of the kitchen.  
“Mother! Call an ambulance, NOW!” I shouted, and she blinked, bemused.  
“What for?” she asked.  
“Don’t ask questions! Just do it! It’s Sherlock! He’s over dosed on his tablets!” I screamed, and she paled, snatching up the phone. We both went back into Sherlock’s room.  
“Sherlock? Sherlock, sweetie, can you hear me?” she asked him. He didn’t respond, and that’s when I noticed. He wasn’t moving at all.  
He wasn’t breathing.

The paramedic rushed in, and started giving Sherlock CPR, his hands pumping away, trying to get Sherlock’s heart going. I had to look away as my little brother was given mouth-to-mouth. Mother was stood, pale, swaying anxiously and praying that Sherlock would wake. That was when I noticed three envelopes laid out on Sherlock’s desk. I stepped closer, frowning. One had my name on it, one had Mother written on it and the third held John’s name. I pointed this out to Mother, but she was still fixated on the paramedic who was trying to restart her son’s heart. The paramedic leaned back, and looked at us sadly. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing to be done. He’s gone” he said. Mother knelt down, taking Sherlock and holding his body against her as she wept. I touched her shoulder, barely containing my own emotions as I stared at the body of my dead brother.

The funeral was a few days later. Mother had sobbed over Sherlock’s letter, and I had to admit that the note he had left for me made me choke up a bit. In my pocket was the third letter. I hadn’t had a chance to give it to John yet. I could see him, out of the corner of my eye, staring in shocked silence at the coffin that contained my brother. His best friend.  
After watching the coffin being buried in a grave marked with his name, I finally caught up with John alone. We were the last two at the graveside, and I touched his shoulder. He jumped, spinning round, eyes wide. “Sorry, John” I said quietly, and he shook his head.  
“No, no. It’s fine. It’s just... a big shock. What happened?” he asked. I grimaced.  
“My brother... was unhappy. Really unhappy. He over dosed on his medication. None of us ever knew how unhappy he was. He left you this, by the way” I said, pulling out the envelope and handing it to him. He took it uncertainly, reading his name written in the spidery handwriting. “Thanks” he mumbled, hurrying away. I touched the top of the gravestone lightly. “Rest in peace, little brother” I murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for commenting and leaving kudos, it means a lot to me!  
> Once again, this is not finished!  
> Couple more chapters and an epilogue to come, so stay tuned!


	8. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is trying to get over his loss and makes a huge mistake

John  
Dear John  
I don’t know when you’ll get this, but if and when you do, I am truly sorry that I am no longer with you.   
Know that my death has absolutely nothing to do with you. I do not blame you for what happened. I never have done and I never will.   
I couldn’t carry on my life, being constantly teased, poked and pushed around just because I was in a wheelchair.   
There is a reason I have written this for you. This is my note. My suicide note.  
And I’m giving it to you, because out of the entire world, I trust you the most. You were the first, last, and best friend I ever had, and if there’s one thing I’m going to miss in my life, it’s having you beside me.  
You meant a lot to me, John. I can only hope that I meant just as much to you.  
Once again, know I am truly sorry for everything.   
Goodbye John  
Sherlock  
I stared at the note I now knew off by heart. It’s been three days since his funeral, a week since his death. A week. I can’t believe he’s already been gone a week. He’s been gone for so long that it feels like he’s been gone for at least two years.   
I was given the time off of school to grieve the loss of my friend, but I have to go back today.  
I don’t want to go. It’s going to be so lonely without him there.  
“John! Come on, time to go!” Mum called, and I shook myself out of my daze. I knew what I had to do. “Five minutes!” I called back, and hurried into my parent’s room. I rummaged through my dad’s bedside drawer, and pulled out the gun he had kept from his years in the army. I slid it into my rucksack, and rushed downstairs.  
Mr Lee looked up when I walked into tutor alone for the first time. “Where’s Sherlock? Skiving again, I presume?” he asked, and I flinched at his name.  
“I would have thought they had told you” I mumbled as the door opened and Mycroft came in. He patted my shoulder. “Quick word outside, Mr Lee?” he asked, and Mr Lee huffed, following us outside. “What’s your insufferable brother done this time?” he asked, and Mycroft glared at him. This was the first time I had seen Mycroft angry. “How dare you. Do not insult my brother’s memory” he hissed, and Mr Lee frowned.  
“His memory? What are you talking about?” he spluttered.  
“They didn’t tell you? My brother committed suicide five days ago!” he yelled in Mr Lee’s face, who took a step back, surprised. “What did you say?” he whispered.  
“I said, my brother committed suicide five days ago. He was depressed because of everyone bullying him all the time, including his teachers!” he shouted.   
“Oh... I’m sorry” Mr Lee mumbled, and Mycroft snorted.  
“Don’t give me that. Don’t pretend you’re sorry when you’re not. The only reason I am here is to make sure John is ok. So keep an eye on him, you got that? Or we’re going to have a problem”

By lunch, the whole school was buzzing with the news. I could hear a group of girls talking nearby in hushed tones. “Did you hear? Sherlock Holmes committed suicide. What a shame, even if he was a cripple. He was so handsome, what with those cheekbones! I would have so gone out with him if he hadn’t been a psychopath” one of them whispered, and I heard Sherlock’s voice in my mind, the first day we met.  
“I’m not a psychopath, though, John, so don’t look so worried. I’m a high functioning sociopath. People never manage to distinguish between the two these days”   
I shook away the memory as I received a text message. It had taken me some asking around, but eventually I got his number.   
Meet me in the alley way. 5 o’clock   
The gun in my rucksack felt like a huge weight threatening to crush me. I didn’t know why I had taken it in the first place. I was angry at the time, but now I felt guilty for what I had been planning to do. I promised myself I wouldn’t use it, because no matter what, Sherlock wouldn’t have wanted me to become a murderer after his death.

At five o’clock, I stepped into the alleyway. It was empty apart from a familiar figure leaning against the wall, who looked around as I approached. “Well, well. Johnny boy. So sorry to hear about Sherlock’s death, by the way. What can I do for you?” James Moriarty asked, stepping out into the light. I grimaced, the gun I had transferred to my pocket pressing against my leg under my coat.  
“Why did you do it? Why did you try and kill me?” I blurted out, and he laughed.  
“Oh, that’s easy. I wanted to burn the heart out of Sherlock. I promised him I would, years ago, when we first met. I said, “I will burn the heart out of you” and he laughed and said he had been informed he didn’t have one, which at the time was true. But then you show up, and he becomes your friend. He cared about you, obviously. So you had to die. But I wasn’t counting on just how much he cared. I wasn’t expecting him to jump in and save you. I was surprised, but I was glad. I smashed his spine so that he wouldn’t be able to get up and come after me. I had my reasons for what I did” he said.   
“Not good enough” I hissed, and he laughed.  
“He would be so proud of you. His loyal little friend, standing up to the big bad bully at last” he replied.  
“I’m going to turn you in. I hope you know that?” I inquired, and he laughed again.  
“Sure. Turn me in. You’re clever, I’ll give you that. Sherlock always picked the clever ones. Bless you, John. Bless you” he said in a mocking tone, and I snapped. Before I knew what I was doing, I had pulled the gun from my pocket and fired. Moriarty collapsed, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ shape of surprise that exactly matched the bullet wound in his head.  
The instant I realised what I had done, I ran. I threw the gun into the Thames, wanting to get rid of it, and kept running. I found my way to Sherlock’s grave, and collapsed to my knees, dry sobs racking my chest. I couldn’t get the image of Moriarty’s body out of my mind. It was seared onto my eyelids, and I saw it every time I closed my eyes. So instead, I widened my eyes, fixing them on Sherlock’s name. “Sherlock” I gasped. “Sherlock, I’ve done something terrible, really, really bad, and I’m so scared, Sherlock, I never meant to do it, I never meant to, I don’t even know why I took the gun in the first place, I’m scared, Sherlock, what do I do?” I choked out. Of course, he didn’t respond, but I could almost feel his disapproving glare. “I killed him, Sherlock. I killed Moriarty. He’s dead because of me. I don’t know why I did it. I don’t know what to do” I gasped. I stared at the grave again, and something clicked in my mind, and I could have sworn I heard Sherlock’s voice and feel his hand on my shoulder.


	9. John p.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock speaks to John and promises to stand with him as he makes his choice

If you feel what you have done is truly wrong, you have two options. One, go to the police and confess.  
“The second option? What do I do, Sherlock?” I cried, almost desperate for an answer, an alternative that meant I didn’t have to go to youth prison.   
You already know the second option, John. Whatever you decide, I will back you all the way. The choice is yours.  
I waited, but his voice didn’t speak again. I wondered if I had imagined it. I was probably going insane now, because I missed him so much and he was the only one who could give me an answer and tell me what to do. I stood shakily. I couldn’t go to the police. I couldn’t look Moriarty’s family in the eye and say I killed him.   
That left me with the one option. The second option. The one I knew already.  
I made my way slowly through the hospital and up onto the roof. I had left a note for my mother, and one for Mycroft. I had only explained what I had done in Mycroft’s letter, because I could never tell my mother I was a murderer. I had also asked him not to tell my mother what I had done, because it would destroy her, and I didn’t want that. I stepped up onto the ledge, and looked down at the pavement below me. “John” his voice whispered, and I turned, stepping off the ledge and back onto the roof in surprise. “Sherlock?” I whispered, my eyes darting around as I searched for him.  
“I know what you did. I know what you are about to do. I’m always with you, John. This is your choice. No matter what choice you make, I will understand” his voice whispered. I stepped back onto the ledge slowly. “This is the only choice I really have, Sherlock. I’m sorry” I choked out. I felt something cool touch my outstretched hand. “I am with you, John. Together” he whispered, and I could see him, stood beside me, his hand holding my own. He was a spirit, but I could feel him.  
Maybe I had gone insane. That seemed the only logical explanation right now of why I was seeing my dead best friend, why he was holding my hand and promising me he would stay with me when I jumped off a roof.  
“Together” I murmured, and I leaned back slightly, and then forwards.  
And then I was falling through the air, ready to die, ready to see Sherlock again.

Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies this one is a bit short  
> Almost there - just the epilogue to go now!  
> Thank you for sticking with this, you're all amazing!  
> As always, comments, reviews and kudos are much appreciated :)


	10. Epilogue - Mycroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft rejects all emotion

Epilogue – Mycroft  
Dear Mycroft  
I did something terrible, and I can’t live with myself anymore.  
That boy, James Moriarty, who broke Sherlock’s spine. I met him in an alleyway.   
And I killed him.  
I shot him in the head, I wasn’t thinking straight, and he was teasing about Sherlock and being so horrible, and I couldn’t help but remember seeing him stamp on my best friend’s back, ruining his life and everyone’s lives forever.  
I told Sherlock first. I visited him. I’m probably going mad, because he spoke to me.  
I could feel him, he was there, and he was talking to me.  
I haven’t told my parents, and I ask you please not to tell anyone what I did. I’ve told them that I was too miserable without Sherlock, which is at least partially true.  
I’m going to jump, and I’m going to see him again.  
And tell him just how important his friendship was to me.  
Please, Mycroft, look after my parents. That is all I ask.  
John Watson

I re-read the note from John again, remembering the shouts as he plummeted from the hospital rooftop. I had been in the area, but had only found the note when I arrived home. I had watched them carry him inside, my brother’s best friend, and I had followed as much as I could, watching as they attempted to save him.  
But nothing could save him.  
And the worst part was how affected I was by it all. It was like watching my little brother die all over again, the paramedics trying to restart his heart, trying to breathe some life back into him.  
And in effect, John was like a little brother to me. He had become such good friends with Sherlock, and they spent so much time together, that he had pretty much become a part of our family, the adopted Holmes boy, almost.  
I lost Sherlock, my biological brother, who, even though I always told him he was an idiot, I loved very dearly.  
And then, a week after burying him, I lost my sort of adopted brother.  
I know that somewhere, another family is grieving with the loss of James Moriarty. But they don’t know what he did, how he ruined not only Sherlock’s and John’s lives, but mine and several others as well.  
But I don’t feel any sympathy towards them. I feel nothing anymore. I grieve my brother and John, but I do not grieve anyone else, nor do I feel anything else.  
As I stand over the graves of my brother and his best friend, buried side by side, I reject all emotions. I do not want to feel grief or sadness anymore. I do not want to feel anything.  
I don’t want to be happy, I don’t want to feel love, I don’t want to be loved. I don’t want to feel anything.  
Standing there, looking down at the graves of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, I know what I must do.  
I must not feel anything towards anyone ever again.  
Because after all, what’s the point?  
All lives end, all hearts are broken.   
And as for caring... well...  
Caring is not an advantage.  
And it never will be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it! Done!  
> Thank you so much for reading and following, it means a lot to me!  
> Once again, all comments/reviews/kudos are most welcome :)


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